Archive for the ‘Lobster Pot’ Category

Those of you who have been around me long enough knows I am a fucking egotist willing to pull dick out for no particular reason spent a a couple years in the Americorps program. If you really want to hear about it, all you have to know that it was the shittiest, most stressful, amazingly awesome, time in my life which I would trade for nothing. It’s where the lobsterpot idea first started. It where I meet some of the greatest friends I have, and actually learned how to be somewhat normal.

Anyone who has been on an Acorps team can tell you, that you end up in some crazed places. Planting trees in North Carolina and living in an old farm house that was 50 minutes from anything. Honestly. ‘Merica gets desolate and scary at times. So I was super stoked to see that this is finally getting a proper release:

It seems that the dude behind it, Bradley Sullivan, is based in Wisconsin. I gotta meet him. If only to swap Acorps stories. But I definitely want to talk to him about this flick. C’mon, horror flicks and national service together. I’m gonna watch the crap out of this.

I spend a lot of time listening to the radio. I don’t say that matter-of-factly. It’s said with judgement and pretension. The same way I say “I don’t use a Kindle” or “I’m thinking of building a compost bin,” or “Fuck a Rav4.” But yeah, a lot of radio. It’s probably because I’ve spent far too much time without an ipod, in front of a computer, traveling in a car, or laying in bed too afraid or aware to stand and take the one breath, the one step that would lead me through another oddly unsatisfying day.

So I’m intimate with most of the voices on public radio. And one of the most identifiable and memorable has been David Rackoff, who passed away yesterday. I’ve learned people are going to leave you, your idols will kill themselves and those who you took for granted will be gone one day when you wake up and it will hurt a little bit.

Such is the story of David Rackoff. He was a great storyteller, a hilarious man and a comforting voice while driving across the country or staring at the ceiling.

I know it’s completely out of season, but this will always be one of my favorites: LHANKED

I park my bike in a basement. The bike rack I use is usually empty except for one other kinda-flesh-toned bike that looks like Eva should be riding it. And by that I mean it looks mildly Dutch. There are three or four other racks, not that many people in the building and no one is really expecting the guys from the gaming design joint to ride bikes, so space is far from limited. But lately there has been a lot more activity on my rack.

This increased activity has caused two disturbances in my day. First off, I feel this need to start locking up my bike. Yeah that’s right, for the past year I haven’t even been carrying a bike lock with me. Just rawdogging on the rack. Fuck it, you know. I knew the crowd that camped out down there. It was a risk I was willing to take. How much is it worth for me to not schlep a bike lock around. Or to spend 30 seconds locking up the rig. Apparently about $650. Or at least that is what I was willing to risk. It’s like how you drop the insurance on your cell phone after your contract is half over.

But now I’ve blown my spot. You guys wanna know where you can steal bikes? I got some insider info. Reminds me of the time The Times did a travel report on Bayfield. The reporter was reporting about the small town-ness. The folksy-ness. The old salt, seaside-ness coupled with midwesterly humbility. About how Bayfield is a place where people still wave at neighbors and don’t lock their doors. Then BOOM a week later, a mega-rash of petty robberies. I am to the Times as my bike parking zone is to Bayfield.

The other disturbance has been people parking in my spot. End of the rack, towards the west end of the building. That was my spot. The other day I was grabbing my bike, and I ran into the guy who was in my unofficial spot. So I dropped the small talk, “so you’re the one parked in my spot” on him.
His response in non-native English made me feel like an asshole. Then I had to explain to him that it was a joke.
Now I walk down there and see this:

Methodology of this reminds me of those dudes who drove trucks during the grammar school days. I kind of grew up in the center of trucksterism. It’s certainly an -ism that has recently flared up in me. Dudes had trucks. These was dudes who came from some pretty brokedown shit, but they had some big trucks. Lift kits and chrome tips. Just the strait-up adolescent proxy of flopping your cock out and asking the art teacher to measure it. Dudes was always parked getaway style. And I had my Volkswagen station with trigger finger door handles that never worked right in the winter and the stereo that could be turned on without the keys or the cars being on, a fatal flaw for the battery, and given this you’d think I’d be parking getaway style more often. You know, for easier jumper cable access. But nope. Not my style.

I hope that dude’s bike tips over.

Disconnected:
Hey music industry you want people to pay for your product? Here’s one good way to do it:

But I’m gonna keep this shit on life support. So until someone pulls the plug, please bear with me.

1th

On my walk to work this morning I saw this:

I felt bad for just snapping a pic of some kid on a unicycle. But how else is he going to learn, if not for public embarrassment?

But my story does not end there, while on the same block I saw two other people riding towards me on the sidewalk. And it was ANOTHER KID ON A UNICYCLE. Dos Unies in the mornin’? I was not ready for that. I could tell it was a unicycle from like 200 feet away by the ridiculous amount of work the dude’s legs were doing. There was also a fair amount of arm flailing. And again, the rider seemed to be with his father, or some sort of father figure.

I’m unsure if the schools were having some sort of unicycle day or what, but there are several issues that need to be addressed. First off, sidewalks are for people. Cycles of any kind are to be on the road. Also, someone needs to crush whatever hopes and dreams these kids have in mind with their unicycles. I would assume their parents would do this, but they clearly aren’t. This is surely the disintegration of family values the right wing is always talking about.

2rd

I’m trying to do something with this:

The father from Out of This World was just like Marty McFly when he donned the radiation suit to command 1955 George McFly to date Lorraine, except he had

Sometimes I think these guys made everything okay for me when mom and pops vR were getting divorced. Things were scary then, I had no clue what I doing. I had no clue what I was supposed to say to my bothers. All I knew was that I was going to see the Hello, Nasty tour. That summer with my friends and going to that concert kinda saved my brain. I bet I listened to this track 500 times that summer.

But even before that, they were making it okay to be on the island of misfit toys. Fuck it, they were blazing their own trail, why shouldn’t everyone. Sure, they released

some questionable tracks, but they released heater after heater after heater for every tepid track. It saddens me incredibly to see Adam Yauch pass on, but makes me feel better knowing he left a strong legacy.

The pic is pretty much unstoppable. Kind of iconic at this point too. I could just post it up because it’s so fucking awesome. But really, it’s because that dude on the guitar, it’s his birthday. And not just any birthday. Señor McKay is 50.

For what it’s worth, Fugazi was the first concert I ever saw. It was at First Ave in Minneapolis. I totally lied to my parents to get there too. I had to work on a Sunday morning and then I was going to see the show that night. Naturally I told my parents I was going apple picking with A. Kobersnatch in the morning, and then I would be working in the evening.

Apple picking. WTF, right?
Shit was a top-notch parent lie. Never did pick apples with that mamajama either. That was probably for the best though, as I heard everyone else did. HEY-O!

Anyway, half a century. That’s legit. And he’s held fast to truth. So much respect.

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First off, let’s talk about bikes. I’ve been hitting the trails a fair amount this past week. Saturday I even threw down on a 24-miler through the woods because I thought that would be a good idea. Actually it was because I was at the John Muir Trails and I did the first 12-mile loop incredibly sloooooow. I’m not sure what caused it, but I was lagging. I was dragging. I was doing the frumpty dance.

So I opted to do the loop again. and it was way faster, way faster, way faster.

There is one zone that is really rad. Mini berms and hits and I pedaling into the first:

Then shit all went foul. Directly after the mini berm I was on to this little ramper stone, which tossed me right off the damn trail and about 15 feet into the trees. I’m unsure how it happened but it was fast and quite funny being I didn’t get injured.

That’s pretty much how it went down. Granted the perception is off and this straight sasquatch sighting image quality but you can see a little bit of my bike there in the distance. The crash was great to because I thought I was clear when I dumped the rig in mid-air. Then I landed, slid to a stop and had it land on me.

The next rider that came by asked if I was okay, I said yeah, then he asked again. “Are you sure you’re alright.”

Creeper. I think he was trying to lure me back to his vehicle to molest me. After that, another

People put these things in their face. The French go crazed for these things. So weird. I mean I hate 90% of all mushrooms, and I’m down for walking through some woods and finding these bad boys. It’s alright though, it’s an excuse for me to hangerang out with pops and the broder.

I even found enough to give a few to the co-host and cook up a couple meals at the estate. If you ever get the chance, eat these MFers up.

PART 2

I’ve spent a fair amount of time driving lately, and I’ve noticed a lot of cars running Monster Energy stickers. They tend to be on various Pontiac models and the Chevrolet Cobalt.

I’m by no means opposed to running some stickers on your rig, in fact it’s only right. It’s a window into the drivers’ soul. You can be running a tan, 85 VW Quantum wagon but you toss a Yeti Bikes or Pinarello sticker on the back and people know that you’re really into bikes. Or if you’ve got a Harley Davidson sticker on the back, people can usually assume you’re weekend warrior. If you’re running a Capita sticker, it’s letting people know that, “yo, I like to ride snowboards and I probably haven’t showered today.”

But a Monster Energy sticker. That is telling me only two things: 1. I am a HUGE fan of Tooth Decay. And 2. I really like to wear my hat backwards. In fact I’m deep into the backwards hat culture. I may also have a lip ring.

PART 3

Also saw a bumper sticker that read: “Pray, Vote, Pray.”

This is what’s wrong with society. The control of our social and economic programs are being overrun by people who believe that they’re getting an easier ride from some invisible, bearded guy in the sky who says that homosexuality is bad and stripping women of control over their own bodies is in our best interest. It seems hate is okay as it’s done with jesus piece around your neck.